What Befits a Brown-Noser
by S J Smith
Summary: Roy's brown-nosing has caught the attention of the wrong men. Please see warnings. Academy Days fic.


**Title:** What Befits a Brown-Noser

**Author:** S J Smith

**Rating:** Teen

**Summary:** Roy's brown-nosing has attracted the wrong type of attention.

**Disclaimer:** If I had any part of this, I wouldn't wonder if I can pay my bills this month.

**Notes: **WARNINGS: Cruelty/Pranks.

* * *

The sound came from the hallway, a low, dull roar, nothing uncommon, as far as Roy was concerned, especially when he had an exam coming up in the next two days. The sound grew louder, and closer, voices actually becoming distinguished from the background noise, words like, "Get him!"

Feet thundered along, and Roy raised his head, frowning. Didn't those idiots realize people were trying to study? Did they even care? A loud howl somewhere outside his dorm door answered that question, and he rolled his eyes. What idiots.

"This is it!" someone shouted, and the door burst open, smashing into the wall.

Roy leaped out of his chair, knocking it backward, as a mob shoved their way through his door. The first one was across the tiny dorm room in two-and-a-half strides, and he grabbed for Roy's shoulders. "This is him!"

"Wh-what's going on here?" Roy stammered.

"Grab him!" another man said, suiting action to words, and suddenly Roy was hoisted off the floor. He kicked reflexively, and someone snagged that foot, another man catching hold of the other.

Bucking against their grips, Roy shouted, "Let me go, damn it! I've got an exam!"

Their answer came in the form of hooting laughter, and the men hauled him out of his dorm room, hoisting him up on their shoulders as they marched down the hall. Roy gave up struggling – he didn't want to fall from this height – and let them haul him off to wherever they wanted. The sooner they dumped him off, the sooner he could do whatever stupid thing was required for them to let him go back to studying. Their cheerful shouts finally died, along with the forward momentum.

Roy risked craning his head around to see where he was, and groaned.

Maes Hughes stood with his hands tucked into his pockets, grinning. "Put him on the table!" he shouted to the men, who gleefully obeyed, stretching out all of Roy's limbs over the edge.

"What the hell, Hughes?" Roy yelled, fighting against their grips.

"Shut the miscreant up," Hughes said, cheerfully, and a handkerchief was stuffed in Roy's mouth. "Now, we all know that Roy Mustang is an asshole."

"Here, here!" the men cheered.

"He thinks, because he's studied alchemy, he's better than all of us."

"Here, here!"

Roy squirmed, trying to spit out the handkerchief.

"He's a suck-up and a brown noser."

"Here, here!"

"Am not!" Roy tried to shout, but the words were muffled by the handkerchief.

"Are we gonna stand for that?" Maes asked.

"No!"

"Are we gonna stand for that?"

"No!"

"Hughes, I'm going to kill you!" Roy screamed in his mind, since he couldn't say anything out loud.

"What're we gonna do about it?"

"Brand him!" someone howled.

"Brand him! Brand him!"

Brand him? They had to be kidding, right? Roy flung his head back, trying to spot Hughes, but he'd moved out of line of sight. There was a familiar sound – a match being struck – and the whoosh of a fire being set. Roy squirmed. No, no, no, he wasn't going to be _branded._

"Brand him!"

Roy caught sight of something – a column of black metal, flattened at one end. Hughes twirled it like a baton and then halted the spin abruptly, showing Roy the end – the flattened piece, with a raised part that read, backwards, _Suck Up_. "This," Hughes said, "Is what men get branded with when they're brown-nosing the professors."

Glaring at him, Roy tried to spit out the handkerchief again. He managed to maneuver it past his teeth this time, and hacked it out. "You bastard."

Hughes grinned. "Flip him over, boys," he said cheerfully, and his accomplices did, holding Roy down on the table again. Someone jerked Roy's pants down, and he tried to fight that, kicking hard, banging his knee on the tabletop. He could hear the roar of the fire, smell the smoke drifting up from it. He gritted his teeth when someone asked Hughes if the fire was hot enough. "Sure! But we have to make sure it's hot. If it's not hot enough, it could really damage Roy-Boy's skin."

"Damn it, Hughes! Let me go!"

"Oh, Roy, don't ruin this," Hughes said. "Just lie here and take it." His voice turned sharp. "Hold him tight now."

"Hughes! You bastard! Let me go!" Roy struggled, trying to break free, catching a glimpse of Hughes coming up on his right.

"Stop wriggling, Roy," Hughes said. "I'd hate to screw this up."

"Don't do this!" Roy shouted.

"It's gonna be really hot, Roy," Hughes said, and the metal sank into his flesh, burning, crackling, singeing -

Roy gasped, eyes watering at the pain searing into his flesh, until he realized -

The men holding him were laughing, chortling, and Hughes's laughter was the loudest of them all. He came around in front of Roy, holding up a bucket full of ice, and showed him the branding iron – pressing it into the ice, then back out, and into his own hand. "It's so cold, it feels like it's burning."

"You asshole," Roy snarled, jerking out from under the men's hands.

"Lighten up, Roy," Hughes said, tapping the branding iron in his palm. "It's just a little prank."

"A little – I thought you were _branding_ me with an iron!" Roy rolled off the table, pulling his pants up.

"Now, would we really do something like that?" Hughes adjusted his glasses.

"Yes!" Roy growled.

"Sheesh, you think I'm that much of a jerk?" Rolling his eyes, Hughes said, "You don't know me at all, do you? It's a joke."

"Damned cruel joke," Roy said. He looked at all the men surrounding them. "All of you are bastards."

They laughed, shaking their heads. "Cut the bitching, Mustang. You need to lighten up."

As the men wandered off, Hughes slapped Roy's back. "C'mon, buddy. You're going to ace that exam, and you know it."

"You're still a bastard, letting me think you were going to brand me!"

"Yeah, but now you're ready for anything, Major Richenbach throws at us on the exam, aren't you?"

"Fucking asshole," Roy grumbled, shoulders slumping. "You really think I'm a brown-noser?" He sneaked a peek at Hughes.

Hughes peered back at him over the top of his glasses, arching his brows.

"Fine." Huffing out an irritated breath, Roy stalked back down the corridor to his room, Hughes following behind him.

"You gotta admit, it was funny."

Roy spat out, "To you."

"Yeah, well. Wish I'd had a camera – your face! It was priceless." Hughes held up his hands as if framing a shot.

"You're still an ass."

"You're still funny." Hughes nudged him with his elbow.

"Oh, shut up," Roy said, trying to fight a grin.

"You're smiling. I see it."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"I'm not arguing with you, Hughes." He couldn't fight the grin now.

"Fine. Don't argue. Go back and study like a brown-noser and a suck-up. And I'll be out having a good time tonight, with that pretty green-eyed thing I met the other night."

Roy hesitated in the doorway. "You met a woman?"

"And what a woman." Hughes clasped his hands over his heart, looking like a love-sick private. "And she's got a frie-end."

He looked in at the book, still on the desk. And back at Hughes. "Fuck it." Yanking the door closed behind him, he said, "Sign me up for a night of debauchery."

"You won't regret it, Roy-boy." Hughes punched his shoulder.

Roy rolled with the punch, giving Hughes a look. "I'd better not. And I'd better ace my exam, too."

"Of course you will, Roy. If nothing else, your ass kissing will get you the best grade in the class."

Seriously, he wanted to smack the man sometimes, but at least Hughes made Roy laugh.

* * *

_~end~  
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End file.
